


The Drinks Break

by le_chat_vilain



Series: Gangs of Middle Earth [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, Fluff, Gangs of Middle Earth, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo sits down with Thorin and finds himself rather suddenly opening up about his past for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drinks Break

**Author's Note:**

> [TRIGGER WARNING: alcohol, mild drug use, death mention.] Fun Fact: St. Eddie’s (St. Edwards) is the church my mother used to drag me to every Sunday until she caught me making out with some boy in the chapel and wisely decided I shouldn’t go any more. So anyway, I wrote the majority of this while pretty doped up, so I hope it is decent and makes sense. Yes I ship Bagginshield and it’s happening in this, it is so happening. I think Bilbo is actually my favourite character in this AU so far, I love that he’s the most awkward criminal ever, it’s adorable. I chose to write Frankie in as a minor character, and she will have a bit more of a role to play later, simply because there is a distinct lack of women in this story, and I just want to even the score a little so to speak.
> 
> Musical Inspiration: Do I Wanna Know? by the Arctic Monkeys

“How to read blueprints,” Bilbo muttered to himself as he typed the words into Google. Four hours he had been in here and achieved precisely nothing. He was a thief, not an engineer or master of heists, he had no idea what all this shit meant. Why couldn’t it just be simple, like a Cluedo board or something?

The room was so sterile, like the peculiar lovechild of a hospital and an office from the mid-1980s. Between the coldness and the quiet it was suffocating. What he wouldn’t give for a radio, or an iPod, or just a computer that had working bloody speakers. He was staring off into space listlessly when Thorin appeared in the doorway with a bottle of Jameson and two glasses, and cleared his throat.

“Shit, Thorin, um, how long have you been standing there? I’ve been working, I promise, I really-”

“Relax, Baggins, I just thought you might need a break and a drink,” Thorin reassured, swaggering in and setting down the glasses in front of Bilbo. He poured out the scotch and sank into the chair facing the thief, swinging his legs up to rest his boots on the desk, motioning for Bilbo to take the other glass.

“Oh, um, thanks,” Bilbo said as he reached for it. Thorin eyed him keenly, waiting for him to take a sip, because apparently the man wasn’t intimidating enough. Bilbo knew he didn’t like scotch, but he was frankly terrified to refuse it, so he took a swig. It was awful, and he couldn’t stifle the coughing and spluttering that soon followed. Thorin grinned and took a sip of his own drink.

“Well at least I don’t have to worry about you pinchin’ my scotch,” he remarked, smirking at Bilbo with a glint in his eye; he really was disarmingly handsome. Bilbo felt his cheeks flush, and quickly looked down at his lap, giving a half hearted chuckle to try and diffuse the tension. “So, how is it all going then, there an easy way to do this?”

“Well, the most obvious way would be the sewers,” Bilbo responded.

“No, the sewers are out, they been rigged with traps for years, you should know that,” Thorin rebutted with a shake of his head.

“Well there has to be some way in, I highly doubt Father Grey would have bothered sending me here if there wasn’t. They clearly know more than they’re letting on, I think we should ask the DA,” he suggested, gesturing in the vague direction of city hall. Immediately Thorin’s whole demeanor changed, his eyes narrowed and a scowl took over his face.

“No.”

“Why not? Why not get all the help we can?”

“Because I don’t treat with the likes of that bastard’s why!” Thorin growled, sitting forward and removing his feet from the desk, standing to glare at Bilbo. He leant forward with his hands on the wood, so that he was right in Bilbo’s face. “You’re supposed to know what you’re doin’ that’s why you’re here. Now you fuckin’ find me a way into that casino, or I’ll skin you alive and make me a new jacket out of your hide.”

His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel his palms beginning to sweat out of pure, pants-shitting fear. Just when he was starting to feel comfortable with the man, Thorin reminded him exactly how dangerous he was. This was not the time to be weak, he had to show he had some backbone or heaven knows what would happen.

“Well I’m terribly sorry but I’m no hacker, and I don’t know every in and out of the government’s business, funnily enough,” Bilbo sassed. There was a moment of horrifying silence before Thorin clenched his jaw, sighed and backed off. Bilbo released the breath he had been holding and felt the relief wash over him like a hot shower on a freezing winter’s day.

“How’d you get into all this anyway, Baggins?” Thorin asked, pouring himself another drink, his tone calmer and more reasonable. He resumed his seat and looked at Bilbo expectantly.

“Well, it all started back in high school I suppose. I met this kid in detention one day, well, I say kid but really he was a few years ahead of me… Anyway, I’d been caught stealing cash from the vending machine, he was just there for being absurdly late for class. Turns out he was really nicking sweets from the grocer down the road,” he started, a smile spreading across his lips at the fondness of the memory. “Anyway, we got to talking and before long we were robbing the suburbs blind.”

“So what happened? Where is he now?” Thorin queried.

“Well…he’s ah…gone…” Bilbo answered in what he hoped was an aloof manner, quickly averting his eyes back to the laptop screen.

“Oh? Is that so?” Thorin remarked, leaning forward and tilting the computer screen forward, forcing Bilbo to look at him once more. “And did you have anythin’ to do with that, Bilbo Baggins?”

_Well, shit._  Bilbo wondered if there was a way that he could avoid having this conversation, and came to the conclusion that there probably wasn’t. Deciding honesty was the best policy, he summoned the courage to speak the truth about the incident for the first time ever.

“Well…I…look it was a long time ago, I was seventeen, I was scared and I just…panicked,” he started, eyeing Oakenshield sheepishly. “You really want the whole story?”

“I do, lad.” Thorin said with a stern nod.

“Smeagol always had this way of just getting into places undetected, he was unfathomably good at it, it was like he was completely invisible…” Bilbo paused, fiddling with the ring that hung from a black leather cord around his neck; he knew full well how Smeagol was so good at infiltrating. The question was, should he reveal that secret or keep it to himself? If a man like Thorin Oakenshield ever found out about the ring, he surely couldn’t be trusted not to abuse its power, could he?

“And?” Bilbo’s pondering was interrupted by Thorin’s gruff insistence.

“Yes, sorry I just…he would go in and disable alarms, then I would follow and we’d pick the place clean. Anyway, one night we were in this really fancy joint, and I’d come across a door that had been bolted from the other side. There was an awning by a nearby window, so I’d climbed out and ducked across, you know, as you do. Turns out that when I opened the second story window, I triggered a separate silent alarm that was on a different circuit to the rest of the house. The police were there in minutes. Smeagol was downstairs and they snuck up on him. When I heard the scuffle I made a run for it, hopped into the neighbour’s oak tree and waited up there until it was safe.”

“So you fucked up and let him take the fall for it?”

“Well, no not entirely. I had every intention of helping him, I had the cash together for his bail and everything, but…” Bilbo felt the tears starting to well in his eyes when he thought about it. How maybe if he hadn’t been such a coward things would have been different.

“But what, Baggins?” Thorin coaxed, taking Bilbo’s hand in his when he saw the younger man was growing upset.

“But he never called, and I couldn’t go down there without getting in the shit myself, you know? I thought he was just protecting me, but after a few days I received a different phone call, from the inspector. He’d put me down as his emergency contact on the processing form, and the inspector wanted to know if I could come and collect his personal effects…This bloke he’d screwed over was in holding with him and…” Bilbo choked out the last few words as a tear worked its way down his cheek. He clasped the ring tightly in his free hand and tried not to completely break down. It had been fifteen years ago and yet the grief was always right there, lingering beneath the surface like a crocodile waiting to strike.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” Thorin murmured, gently squeezing his hand. Bilbo looked up into his grey blue eyes and managed a grateful nod. “I get the impression he was more than just a partner in crime, yeah?”

Bilbo nodded again, cautiously this time, finally registering that the Thorin was the one holding his hand, as if he’d previously thought Thing from The Addams Family was holding it or something.

“Look, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know what it’s like to lose a lover, but I do know grief all the same. I know it’s easy to blame yourself. I know the powerlessness of it,” Oakenshield began. “But you have to ask yourself, lad, what could you have done if you had been there? It was out of your control. You were smart, you had a plan, you played all your cards right, but none of it mattered. Don’t matter how good your hand is, if the dealer hits twenty-one and you’ve only got twenty, you lose. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

“Yeah…yeah I do.” The thief managed a poor excuse for a smile, and the gangster returned it with a much more well formed, warm one. Their eyes met again and Bilbo noticed that Thorin was softly brushing his hand with his thumb, the gesture oddly tender coming from a man like him. Was this really the same bloke who a mere ten minutes ago threatened to skin him alive and make a new coat out of him? He had anticipated that Thorin would be a complex man, but he was beginning to see that complex was putting it lightly. Before he’d walked in here, this room had felt like a prison, but now it felt alive just by the simple addition of his presence. There was a whole other world inside the eyes Bilbo stared into at that moment, and he could feel his curiosity beginning to grow much too strong; the story of the proverbial cat nagged in the back of his mind. “Thanks, Thorin. I’ve never… I think I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, lad. Look, I’ll talk to Grey, see if he can get us anymore information about the sewers,” Thorin conceded, their eye contact broken only for a second when his eyes flitted down to Bilbo’s lips. Bilbo pretended not to notice but his poker face was clearly not fooling Thorin who smirked at him knowingly before releasing his hand. “Until then, there’s not much more you can probably do here, so why don’t you call it a night and come join me upstairs for a pint and a feed, you know, when you’re ready.”

He rose from his seat, grabbed the bottle and glasses, and left, the room instantly feeling colder and darker without him. Bilbo sat there stunned for a moment, wondering what on earth the last part of their exchange had meant. The hand holding, that smirk again, the invitation…did he just? No, surely not. Deciding he was reading too much into it all, he composed himself and made his way down the hall, being sure to lock the door behind him before he went.

When he emerged from the basement he could hear a cacophony of merriment coming from the bar area, and upon reaching it saw that the night was in full swing with the dance floor full and the beer flowing. The majority of the patrons were rough looking types clad in leather, and denim, women inked to their eyeballs and men with beards that suggested their day jobs involved timber and chainsaws. Bilbo scanned the room nervously before Thorin finally caught his eye from a booth tucked away in the corner by the billiards tables. Cursing his perpetually sweaty palms, he wiped them on his jeans once more and cautiously made his way over to the booth, being very sure not to make any eye contact with anyone, or accidentally bump into them either. To say he was out of his element would be like saying WWII was just a wee skirmish.

“For God’s sake, Baggins, take that rod out your arse and lighten up a bit!” Thorin jested, slinging his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders when he sat down. He signalled to a waitress in a Guns N’ Roses tank and Daisy Dukes who’d somehow escaped Bilbo’s knowledge until now, and she sashayed over with a spring in her cowboy boot clad step.

“What’ll it be, Mr. O?” she asked. She was American, her distinct accent indicating she was from New York, Queens maybe if he had to guess anything more specific. Her skin was a beautiful caramel and her long wavy hair was intentionally dark brown at the roots, and a light sandy colour at the ends.

“Two of the usual thanks Frankie, and ah, something to help young Mr. Baggins here loosen up a bit, aye!” Thorin instructed.

“Of course, Mr. O, comin’ right up!” Frankie said with a sparkling smile, perfectly straight pearly white teeth practically glowing in the dimness of the tavern. Bilbo watched her bounce back to the bar to relay the order to Dwalin, her hips swinging and long hair swishing, brushing her back just below her shoulder blades. When she passed by one of the billiard tables, an inebriated idiot with far more confidence than sense had the nerve to smack her on the backside. This proved to be a rather poor life choice on his part when she promptly brought the thick plastic tray she was carrying down on his head with enough force to snap it in two. Bilbo expected Dwalin to spring over the bar any second and give the kid what for, but instead he stayed there pouring beers, just keeping an eye on the situation. Frankie was the one who took the creep by the ear and dragging him to the doorway, literally booted him out of the bar. Bilbo made a hasty mental note to never mess with Frankie.

“So that’s Frankie, she’s Fili’s girl,” Thorin explained matter-of-factly, arm still around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“She seems…nice,” Bilbo said uncertainly.

“Oh she is, provided you’re nice back.” Frankie weaved her way back towards them and set down two pints of ale and a bite sized brownie on their table. Bilbo eyed the dubious slice, strongly believing that it wasn’t as innocent as it looked. What had his world come to when he couldn’t even trust free baked goods anymore? “Oh, relax Mr. B, it’s just a brownie! Go on, take a bite, I made it myself! Best in Eryn Vorn, I promise. Go on!”

Recalling the ferocity at which she dealt with the last person who crossed her, he decided that refusing was most definitely not an option. He popped the brownie in his mouth and chewed, giving her an uneasy grin and a thumbs up as he did so. She beamed at him in return. His assumption about it’s illicit nature had indeed been accurate.

“Anythin’ else I can get you fellas?” Frankie asked.

“That’ll be all, love. Thanks.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Mr. O. Nice to meet you, Mr. Baggins.” With that, she turned on her heel and danced back to the bar, stopping to check on a few other tables en route.

“Now, where were we,” Thorin started, before his phone began to vibrate its way across the table. He tilted it to check the caller ID and sighed before reluctantly answering. “Yeah…mhmm….mhmm…right now? It has to be tonight? Urgh, fine, half an hour, St. Eddies. You better not be late or we’ll be havin’ more than just words, you hear?”

Thorin hung up the call and turned to look at Bilbo, exasperation all over his face.

“That was your priest, Baggins. Wants me to come meet him now about those sewers,” he explained. “You should know I’d normally tell him to go fuck himself askin’ to meet at this hour.”

Bilbo was completely at a loss as to how to respond to that statement. It’s not like he expected Fr. Grey to get back to him that quickly after all. Thorin smirked at him in the same manner as before, a manner in which was coming very familiar given the short amount of time he’d known the man.

“The things you’ve got me doin’ for you already,” Thorin remarked, and before Bilbo knew what was happening, Thorin took his chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed him. It was brief, but the warmth of Thorin’s lips on his, the scratch of his beard against Bilbo’s clean shaven skin, it felt as though the moment lasted an eternity, like time itself had stopped. Bilbo gawked at Thorin as he skidded out of the booth and donned his black suede jacket, walking all the way to the door before looking back. When he noticed Bilbo’s gawking, he simply grinned and winked, then pushed the door open and swaggered out into the cool November night.


End file.
